Aloha, page 6
I felt a tear slide down my cheek at his sheer thoughtfulness and romanticism.
“If we couldn’t go to Hawaii.” Nihaal worked the finger in and out with each word.
I rose on my toes. Trying to catch his rhythm. Unable to stop my body from wanting it so bad. Moving against his cock. The friction making me lose my mind, my inhibitions.
His voice was clipped, cool, at odds with his furnace-hot body, his racing breaths. “Hawaii.” Thrust. Exit. “Comes.” Thrust. “To.” Exit. “Us.” Thrust.
I cried out as his thumb brushed against my already stimulated clit, rubbing against it in that way I liked and couldn’t stand at the same time. Aching and pulling me into orbit.
My orgasm began and took me under in seconds, making a mess of my panties, moisture building, and dripping down my thighs.
Tears blinded me even as I came apart in his arms, shaking and dropping my feet back to the ground.
I searched for his mouth.
Nihaal kissed me roughly. Hard. His teeth bit my lips as he took and took me. I loved every second of it. Feeling cherished and so very loved, more tears fell down.
I tried to wipe them away, but he batted my hand away.
“I like seeing these happy tears,” Nihaal spoke against my lips. “It’s better than the others you’ve cried this week.”
“I love you,” I said brokenly. The words too fucking small, not enough to contain everything I felt, I was for him. Treasured and fucked and bold and happy and fantastic. “No one has ever done this for me. No one thinks I need…I need…”
I turned in his arms and threw my hands around my husband’s neck in gratitude and utter abandonment. He was forced to withdraw his hand from my core because of my action. And I felt his loss deep in the pit of my stomach.
The gown slithered down between our feet.
I was messy, and half-naked. He was still fully dressed. But I didn’t care.
“I need,” Nihaal said softly, cupping my cheeks with fingers drenched in my pleasure. Sticky and aroused and all his. “I need to take care of you too, love. It’s not been an easy time for you with Krivi and Shalini Ma.”
I knew what he meant. Having the conversations I’d had to have with my family was soul-wrecking but also healing. And knowing Nihaal was there with me, by my side or giving me space, meant I could face it all without losing myself.
Now, his ichor-gold eyes glowed with uncertainty and love. The need to care for me. His admission was heartfelt. “And I wanted to do something to make you feel…happy again.”
“I’m happy.” I sniffled, inelegantly. And kissed him. Soft and lingering, the tears drying up. “If I were anymore happy, I’d fly straight into space.”
“That’s my plan.” Nihaal grinned wickedly. Gave the bed a sidelong glance. “On that bed, to be more precise. I fucking deserve it after muscling the thing in with Krivi’s construction pals.”
“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” I anxiously checked his shoulder, precisely where the bullet had entered and exited from his flesh. “The doctor said…”
“I didn’t hurt myself.” He grumbled. “This is a sexy moment. Don’t ruin it, will you?”
“I am ruined. I am a blubbering mess,” I wailed, leaning back against his arms.
“You’re my blubbering mess,” Nihaal corrected me and kissed my forehead. “And I plan on ruining you for the rest of my life, Mrs. Bhatnagar. Will you let me?”
I did what Noori said to Nihaal every time he asked her for permission to pick her up, or play with her, or read her favorite storybooks with her. What Amma told him when he announced he’d make scrambled eggs for breakfast for everyone and Krivi actually allowed him near the knives.
I lay my head on his good shoulder and whispered, “Okay.”
And it was more than okay.
It was my own personal happy ever after. Every single day.
Thank you for choosing to read my short story for such an important cause. You’re awesome. If you have burning questions about Nihaal and Mili, all will be answered if you dive into Burn and Blaze.
The Pre-Proposal
Adriana Locke
The Pre-Proposal
Blakely
"Aloha," Ella says, straightening the flower halo on her head. "Welcome to Hawaii."
She offers me a pale-yellow beverage with a tiny red umbrella. I take it from her and then take in my brother Brock's backyard. It's not exactly an island in the Pacific, but it's as close as you'll get in Nashville.
Birthdays are nothing short of national holidays for Ella St. James. There is no such thing as a small celebration with her. When Brock showed the tiniest crack in his veneer, hinting at the most negligible possibility of being open to a party, Ella ran with it … straight to the pin app for ideas. One month later, she's transformed his backyard into a tropical oasis to cheer her boyfriend on into the next year of life.
"Wow," I say before sipping the pineapple concoction. "You really went all out for this one."
"I've been hinting at wanting to go to Maui for months. I thought maybe I could wet his whistle a little bit. Give him a taste of what his life could be like—how happy I would be and how over-the-top I could go in returning the happiness—if he obliged my request."
I smirk at the twinkle in her eye. "Meaning …"
"You should see what I have planned when all of you go home. I know exactly what wish will be granted tonight and involves me, grapes—"
"No, Ella. Stop! That's my brother."
She giggles. "Sorry. I forget there are boundaries. It's the one shitty thing about dating your best friend's brother."
"Work on remembering that."
My gaze sweeps across the event in front of me. Music plays from a DJ booth in the far corner of the backyard. A bar is set up next to the outside kitchen area with two bartenders serving Brock's friends colorful drinks. A Hawaiian backdrop leans against the fence for photo opportunities, and hibiscus flowers, pineapples, and surfboard inflatables float in the pool.
It's fun and special without being stuffy. It's perfect for Brock.
"You did an amazing job, El," I say, nodding in appreciation of her efforts.
"Thanks. It came together pretty well, and Brock said he loved it. So, I'm happy. I mean, I would've loved another bump in the budget so I could've afforded …"
I don't hear the rest.
It's impossible to focus on anything else when he looks your way.
My breath catches in my lungs. If I was walking, I'd stumble. Every cell in my body overheats as I take in the real focal point of the party.
Renn. Freaking. Brewer.
My brother's best friend owns the space around him without putting in actual effort. He's traditionally good-looking with bottomless brown eyes, a jawline cut from granite, and shoulders that assure you he's capable of tossing you over them and carrying you off to bed. Something I've dreamed about more times than I care to admit. But he's somehow even more than that.
He carries himself with an air of intrigue as if he's on the verge of saying or doing something fun. His confidence is as attractive as his broad shoulders and thick forearms. And the way Renn looks at me like I'm the only person in the room? It's heady. Intoxicating.
And dangerous.
"I have to admit," Ella says, the words laced with a laugh, "it took you about five seconds longer than I guessed to find Renn."
My cheeks flush as Renn smirks. He watches me with the heat of a lover and the mischief of a conspirator. He's neither thing to me. He can't be. For so many reasons.
He lifts his glass my way before slowly returning to his conversation with a couple of guys I know are also on his and Brock's rugby team.
I clear my throat and turn to Ella. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
She laughs again in reply.
"No, really," I say, feeling Renn's eyes on my back and trying my best not to turn around. "What did you say?"
"I said it took you about five seconds longer than I anticipated to find Renn in this chaos."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She puts a hand on her narrow hip. "Don't play coy with me. You know damn good and well what I mean."
And I do. I know exactly what she means.
The chemistry between the bad boy of rugby and me is wild. I've been awake countless nights, wondering how to describe what it's like to be with him. How to name the feeling. The electricity. The connection. How to wrap my brain around the intoxication of breathing in the same air, the giddiness of knowing every woman in the room is dying for his attention, and I get it without asking—the heat in his eyes and the fire in his touch.
I should feel nervous around him. He's that beautiful. But, instead, it's as if we've spent more time together than a few parties and a handful of holidays. There's nothing awkward or off-putting, nothing unsettling about Renn Brewer … except that there's nothing unsettling about Renn Brewer.
"It doesn't matter," I say before taking another sip. "He's Renn, and I'm me, and, in this mathematical equation, one plus one does not equal two."
She grins. "You're right. I'm sure he's good for way more than two."
I smack her shoulder lightly, making her laugh. The levity fades quickly from her pretty face.
"What?" I ask.
Ella groans. "I just saw Kevin—a guy your brother went to college with. He's flying to San Diego in the morning and staying here tonight. And I have a ton of bags and boxes in the guest room that I was hiding for the party, and it's a mess and—"
"Excuse me." A bartender approaches, interrupting her mini-meltdown. "Ella, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need you for a second."
She turns to me.
"Go," I say, smiling. "Take care of that, and then try to enjoy your work. I'll go upstairs and get the guest room ready for Kevin."
Her shoulders fall. "Are you sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure. Big groups of people make me nervous anyway. I'm kind of happy about going in the air conditioning and avoiding the masses."
"I owe you. Big time."
I smile at her as the song playing overhead changes to a quicker beat. Renn moves to the edge of my periphery. His laughter pierces through the music, floating on the warm breeze straight to me. The sound draws up the corners of my lips. But before I can toy with him back, my brother comes barreling toward me.
"There you are," Brock says, giving me a one-arm hug. "I was wondering when you were going to get here."
"Traffic was a nightmare."
He releases me, taking a step back.
My brother is nearly a foot taller than me and outweighs me by almost a hundred pounds. We may not look alike, but we've always been close; not having a father will do that to you. But our bond grew tighter when our mother died, leaving us on our own—a high school kid and a collegiate athlete with no one to turn to.
"What do you think of your party?" I ask, casually glancing over my shoulder. I intend to leisurely drag over the partiers. Instead, it flips right to Renn.
He's bringing a glass to his lips, his eyes trained on me. The corners wrinkle as if he's amused. He winks.
I lift a brow. And even though I can't hear it, his chest shakes with a chuckle.
"What do I think of this party?" Brock asks, drawing my attention back to him. "I think it's completely unnecessary and over-the-top." He leans forward, lowering his voice. "And I kind of love it, but don't tell Ella."
I laugh.
"I'm kidding," he says. "She knows she killed it. But I know this whole idea did double duty because she wants me to take her to Hawaii. She's trying to lure me in."
"Really?" I gasp. "I had no idea."
He smirks. "Sure, you didn't. Ella has a lot of strengths, but subtly isn't one of them." He waves to someone across the yard. "Do you mind if I go—"
"No, go. Please. Hang out with your buddies. I'm going inside to make sure the guest room is ready for Kevin."
"What? You don't have to do that. He'll be fine on the couch."
"I know I don't have to, but I want to. I need a calm transition from borderline road rage to partying rugby boys. Things will get wild here soon, and I need a few moments of peace."
Brock rolls his eyes but grins. "Whatever. But I don't know what's in there. If you need help moving big boxes or anything, just shout."
"Whatever," I say, giving his sarcasm back to him. "Now go have fun."
He makes a face, but his appreciation and happiness are evident. That makes me happy.
When I turn around, Renn is nowhere to be seen.
"Hi, Mark," I say, passing a light-haired man with a neck as thick as a tree trunk.
"It's good to see you, Blakely," he says.
Good to see you, too, but get out of my way so I can find Renn.
My stomach twists because it's the last thing I should be thinking. Renn Brewer is the epitome of off-limits. But, unfortunately for me, that fact might only add to his lure.
I wind my way through partygoers and head for the house. The late evening sun is low on the horizon, casting a glow around us. It's my favorite time of day. The world is a touch more magical in the golden hour.
Brock's home is warm and inviting as I enter the French door into the kitchen. Even though I've never lived here, it feels like coming home. There are many reminders of our mother—her apron hanging in the butler's pantry and one of her handwritten recipes framed on the island. It's the closest thing to home that I'll ever have.
"Hey, cutie."
I jump at the sound of Renn's voice. The surprise is fleeting and quickly replaced by a heat snaking up my spine.
"You scared the shit out of me," I say, laughing, as I turn to him.
His black polo shirt makes his deep brown eyes even darker—more sinful. They leave a fire trail behind as they drag down my body before returning to my face.
He licks his lips. "Has anyone told you that you look hot as hell tonight?"
"No."
"Then let me be the first." He takes a few steps toward me. "Blakely, you look hot as hell tonight."
I laugh. "You're a charmer."
"My mother says it'll either save my life or destroy it."
My cheeks ache. "I guess it'll depend on who you're trying to charm."
"How's it working on you?"
I smile.
He stops a couple of feet away from me. The smooth, warm notes of his cologne—the same scent that he's paid a hefty chunk of cash to be the face of—caresses me, teasing me with its promise of sexual satisfaction.
"What are you doing in here, anyway?" he asks. "The party is out there."
"I told Ella I'd go upstairs and get the guest room sorted for Kevin. He's staying here tonight, and she left the room a mess."
Renn nods. "Want some help?"
"Sure."
His eyes light up as if he's pleased. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in a while."
"I've been good. Working a lot," I say, following him to the stairs. He stops off to the side to allow me to go first. "I'm being considered for a promotion, so I've been working extra hard to seal the deal."
"I'm sure you've already got it in the bag."
"Thanks. I hope so."
The guest room door is open when we reach the top of the stairs. Ella was right—it's a mess.
Boxes are stacked at the foot of the bed. Some appear empty, while others have papers and packing material spilling out onto the floor. The bed is littered with scissors, tape, ribbon, and magazines. Several empty water bottles and a half-bottle of wine are lined up on the nightstand.
"I bet you regret offering to help now, don't you?" Renn asks, chuckling.
"Actually, no. It's not even as bad as I pictured."
"Really?"
"You obviously don't know Ella," I say, grinning. "She's gorgeous, talented, kind, helpful … and a walking disaster."
He peruses the room. "I've read studies that say that the most successful people in the world are a disaster."
"Let me guess—you're a disaster?"
He smiles. "I mean, I was the Most Valuable Player in rugby the last two years. Just saying."
My laughter fills the room. "You were also suspended for three games, and didn't I see something online about a picture you posted on your Social Stories?"
"Are you following me, Miss Evans?"
"You are kind of hard to miss, Mr. Brewer," I say, stuffing packing material back in the boxes. "You're on every tabloid. I can't turn on a sports station without hearing your name. My co-workers were even talking about you the other day, and I can assure you, none of them know the first thing about rugby."
Renn gathers the bottles and puts them in the trash. "It was about how big my cock is, wasn't it?"
My cheeks turn a deep shade of pink.
"I knew it," he says, smirking.
"I'm not sure that's something to be proud of."
He snorts. "If I'm not supposed to be proud of the size of my cock, then what do you want me to be proud of?"
I flash him a look. "I meant that you shouldn't be proud of the fact that you posted on Social. What if little kids saw that?"
"First of all, it was up for two minutes at three in the morning. Second, I'm a human, and although I'm quite a specimen, I make mistakes. And third, it's not my fault that society has deemed anatomy a taboo subject. Before modern times and everyone's sudden sensitivity to … well, everything … they had naked sculptures of men and women sitting around town." He inspects the wine label. "You'd be kidding yourself if you think I wouldn't be the one posing for artists if that was still a thing."
I roll my eyes—but he's not wrong. If Michelangelo were here and looking for a muse, he'd undoubtedly choose Renn.
"You're so humble," I say, breaking down the smallest box and shoving it inside the largest one.
"I'm honest."
I shrug, mostly because I can't deny that he's right. I look up when something rattles.
Renn holds a box of cookies. "Think these are still good?"
I smile. "I have no idea. Take a bite of one and see."
"That feels risky."
"Don't act like you're afraid of risky behavior."
